No Light, No Light
by therainydaykids
Summary: If he were a sailor, then the Harvest Goddess was his ships anchor and Claire was a siren – equal parts enchanting and deadly as she lured him away from his maps course. Carter/Claire. Secret Santa Gift for Halidom! T for sexual themes.


**A/N:** Dearest Halidom, this is for you. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas/whatever-you-may-celebrate and that you enjoy this. Please forgive the 101 references to the Bible and ancient mythology, I think I got a little _too _excited with it all.

To everyone else, happy holidays!

**IMPORTANT**: All religious beliefs expressed in this story are the characters, not my own. They are purely fictional so please do not take offense, particularly if you are Catholic. I accept and respect all religions (or a lack thereof). Additionally, if the idea of a priest engaging in a physical affair upsets you then I suggest you refrain from reading this story.

**Disclaimer: **All italicized passages, names or stories belong to their rightful owners (most notably the Bible). Also I don't own Harvest Moon - shocking, I know.

Pheeeew, now that's over, go forth and read.

* * *

><p>No Light, No Light<p>

_'Lucifer was the first of the angels to rebel against God. Prior to his exile from heaven, he was said to have been the most beautiful of angels, a passage from Ezekiel 28:13 depicts him as the following: _"_You were the seal of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. You were in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone was your covering: the sardius, topaz, and diamond, beryl, onyx, and jasper, sapphire, turquoise, and emerald with gold. The workmanship of your timbrels and pipes was prepared for you on the day you were created._"

_Lucifers role had been different to all other angelic hosts. It was believed that God intended for him to be the angel of worship, one whose ministry surrounded the heart of heaven. He was created to dwell in heavens throne room, eternally in the presence of God. However, such a splendorous existence did not last forever. Whilst working with God and the other angels, Lucifer began to consider his own position of prominence. He came prideful and believed that he was superior to God and that he should be the Most High. However, God does not allow anyone else to be worshipped and…'_

Carter often read about the fall. The fall of man, the fall of angels. The fall of Lucifer, the daystar, who had blazed the brightest yet been the first to descend the skies - _'how you have fallen from heaven, O star of the morning, son of the dawn! You have been cut down to the earth, you who have weakened the nations!' _It had never made much sense to Carter why Lucifer, who had been crafted in the image of Eden, the Garden of God itself, had desired more. Perhaps it was not only mortals who were doomed to desire what they could never have – perhaps, like Eve, angels craved the forbidden fruit. And yet, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. For that was what happened to stars, wasn't it – the brighter they shone, the sooner they burned out?

Before meeting Claire, Carter had not believed he would ever fully understand what seduced angels from light into dark, from the spires of heaven into the depths of hell. It had fascinated him endlessly but always from an arm's length, where he could hold it up and examine it from a distance. Mere theological musings of another religion, one that was so different to his own, that was used to whittle away the hours in his empty Church.

But then Claire started coming to mass. It had been unremarkable at first: a curious farmer investigating the religious life of the small-town in which she resided. He hadn't expected her to begin asking questions and telling him stories, or to start listening to him and debating with him. She was a proud atheist ("_I don't waste my time worshipping imaginary beings,") _but instead of angering him, she challenged him. Day after day, she surprised him ("_I don't need to pray to go to Heaven. I'm awesome, the Harvest Goddess will want me around in the afterlife. Trust me,"). _It was through this, through knowing Claire, that Carter came to understand the fall a little better.

'..._Before Lucifer had the chance to make his move God banished him from heaven with a bolt of lightning. Lucifer was stripped of everything: his beauty, his position, and his rights to heaven. Ever since then, Lucifer (now referred to as Satan) has constantly opposed the mighty plans of the lord, even attempting to tempt Jesus to sin and worship him…'_

A voice from the doorway interrupted him, one he recognised immediately - "Carter! Thank goodness you're still up," the door closed behind her with a soft click. Carter closed the book he had been reading and glanced up at Claire curiously; it was almost midnight. She paused by the entryway to shake the snowflakes out of her hair before wandering to the centre of the room. "The weather is _insane _out there." Then, breathlessly: "Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?"

Despite the innocence of the question, Carter's heart caught on his ribs. If he were a sailor, then the Harvest Goddess was his ships anchor and Claire was a siren – equal parts enchanting and deadly as she lured him away from his maps course. In spite of this, he nodded. "Of course not. Stay as long as you need."

"Thank you so much. I swear, hindsight is always the biggest bitch." Perplexed, Carter stared blankly at her. Claire blinked slowly and then, a heartbeat later, caught on. "_Oh_, right. I let Karen talk me into an extra glass of wine, if I hadn't I probably would have made it home before the storm," she told him before sitting down on the row of pews closest to the front and crossing her legs.

Carter remained behind the altar, safe on board his figurative ship. "I see," he said, "Well, you're most welcome here. The churches doors are always open to you.

Claire glanced around the room. "You know, it feels pretty weird being here so late. Do you get many visitors at this time?" Her eyes lit up. "Is this the equivalent of Doctor Trent's emergency hours? Except instead of giving people urgent medical attention, you give them urgent forgiveness." She paused. "Do _murderers _come at this hour?" She raised her hand in a three fingered salute. "I swear I'm innocent."

"Do you swear on the River Styx?"

Claire blinked at him again. "The river _what_?"

Carter realised immediately that it had been a foolish thing to say. Prior to becoming a priest, he had studied theology and taken a particular interest in ancient Greek Gods and Goddesses. Sometimes, if not always, he forgot that others did not share his passion or knowledge of the subject. "The Styx is a river that the ancient Greeks believed in. According to them, it formed the boundary between this Earth and Hades – the underworld. The gods and goddesses were bound by this river and swore oaths on it." He inhaled. "Should they not follow through on their promises then they are sentenced to seven years death."

Claire pursed her lips and uncrossed her legs. "Well, seven years isn't so bad in the grand scheme of things. I mean they're only _immortal_."

"I suppose so," he agreed, deciding not to mention the wide array of fates worse than death he had read about.

Claire began playing with the ends of hair and Carter swallowed, nerves causing his throat to dry. Having Claire here so late was dangerous – he wanted her to leave, he wanted her to stay. They had become a lot closer in the last few months (time seemed to move more quickly now that he had her weekly presence to look forward to). So whereas their Sundays together had the potential to create awkwardness, this visit had the potential to create a disaster. He licked his lips; this could turn into _The Tempest_ in a blink of an eye. Carter took a breath and settled his thoughts, changing the subject as he did: "You mentioned before you were drinking at Karen's before you came here –"

"Oh, Carter," Claire interrupted dramatically, placing a hand on her heart. "You're such a good listener as always."

Lightning cracked against the ground like a whip. Carter winced as a white light shot through the window. Once the weather settled, he continued as if she hadn't sassed him, "So, can I assume you two have made amends?"

"You can," Claire nodded and Carter rose his eyebrows at her. "Don't look at me like that. I _know _I said Ann's birthday was the final straw but she's my best friend and I think she needs help," she explained, "Besides, aren't you all about forgiveness?"

Carter was spared from answering (_"I find absolution is granted only to those who deserve it,"_) by the lights suddenly shutting off. For several seconds all that could be heard was the creaking of wooden panels and the low hum of fading electricity.

"Oh, spooky," Claire remarked, her words barely audible against the agonizingly loud howl of the wind. There was a wild rustling of leaves in the distance.

Carter glanced out the window, but all he saw was an endless void. No trees, no silver snowflakes, just nothingness. _The street-lamps must be out as well_, he realised. "Well, it rather looks like we're in for a long night ahead of us."

The room was pitch black and it was as if someone had spilled the entire contents of an inkwell on them. The moment, the darkness – it was entirely theirs. It was in this darkness that Carter knew secrets were born; that siren calls were answered. His heart began to throb inside his throat. Although Carter couldn't see Claire, he could most certainly feel her: the air crackled with her presence. A passage that he had read earlier simmered in the back of his mind: _"For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment."_

_Perhaps_, Carter thought,_ this is hell. Perhaps I have already become a prisoner to the chains of darkness. _He took a step forward, towards the depths of their obscurity, towards Claire…

Then, like a bucket of ice cold water, Claire struck a match. The flickering light from its tip painted her face alternating shades of gold and black; she was biting her lip. She looked towards him, blue eyes wide. "Can you pass me a candle, Carter?"

"Er – er, yes. A candle. Coming right up," he sputtered frightfully as he spoke, as if it was his voice that needed to get used to the light and not his eyes. More calmly, and after handing her a musk-scented candle from the altar, he asked: "Do you just happen to have a box of matches on you wherever you go?"

Claire carefully used them to light the candles wick and then handed Carter the box. "No, of course not. Gray gave them to me today, if you'd believe it. Underneath all that…well, _Gray-ness,_ he's such a softie. He found out I was going to the winter mines without them and told me that," she lowered her voice into a gruff impersonation of the blacksmith, "_Only a bloody idiot would do that when those rocks could fall at any damn second and cave you in_".

Carter moved back to the altar and began lighting the rest of the candles; a soft, yellow hue spread around the room like a drop of blood in water. "He has a point," Carter paused and reflected on Claire's words. "Perhaps it was divine intervention."

Claire rolled her eyes. "I hate to break it to you, but it was just a box of matches."

"The Harvest Goddess works in mysterious ways," Carter informed her, his grin crooked.

"If the best your Harvest Goddess can do is save us from a few hours in the dark then I think you need a new religion," Claire pointed out.

Carter waited a beat or two, and then said: "Well, it appears we must agree to disagree."

"As usual," Claire teased, referencing hers and Carter's inability to agree on most things. He had told her at the Music Festival that they were fire and ice, that they were two forces of nature who refused to back down to the other, and listening to them now, arguing again about the Harvest Goddess, he couldn't deny its accuracy.

"There's nothing wrong with consistency," he pointed out.

"No. No, there isn't." Claire folded her arms across her chest and lent forward, so her elbows rested on her knees. Blonde tendrils of hair skimmed the edges of her thighs. "So, what now? Shall we discuss the mysteries of life and death?"

Carter smiled at the idea. "If you'd like."

"_Goddess_, no. That sounds like an awful idea." Claire glanced up to the heavens and her next words were delivered to the Harvest Goddess, not Carter. "_Sorry_. Didn't mean to curse with your name. Please don't smite me or anything."

"She says you're forgiven," he told her wisely.

The farmer looked at him sharply, eyes narrowing. "_What?_" Carter smirked; Claire groaned. "Ugh. Religious jokes are so not funny."

Carter shrugged. "Perhaps not to you."

During the lapse in conversation, Claire's head swivelled back and forth around the room, searching. Her hair seemed to resemble golden waves, tossing and turning in time with her shifting stare. _I could drown in her_, Carter thought. "Say, have you got any church wine?" Carter stared at her blankly. She sighed. "You know, the stuff the priest blesses for communion at mass."

"I didn't realise the Harvest Goddess was a part of celebrating the Eucharist," Carter replied dryly.

Claire sighed in defeat. "Fine, fair point. It was worth a shot."

Carter stood up, straightened his black robes and knelt behind the magnificent, marble altar. The sound of chinking glass echoed around the church. "Well, I may not have any 'church wine' but I do have this from Aja's." He held up a translucent green bottle and Claire grinned at him, clearly delighted.

"That's even better," she said, "Especially because I don't have to sit through an hour of sermons to get a sip."

Carter's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, I didn't realise you used to practise Christianity."

"Really? Did you think I knew all that stuff about communion just 'cause?" He nodded. "Please Carter, I'm offended you think I'm that lame."

"Claire, no-one could spend time with you and ever think you were 'lame'. Perhaps a little -" A loud thunder clap cut off Carter's sentence but Claire just stared at him, eyes wide like saucers. Realising his tongue had betrayed him, Carter swiftly cleared his throat and changed topics. "So, what made you become an atheist?"

Claire was silent for a moment and appeared thoughtful. "I used to be the biggest church nut. My family, they were very Catholic and we went to mass – excuse the pun – religiously," She exhaled. "I was even part of the band," she added for emphasis. "Anyway, I would go to church every Sunday morning and I would leave thinking I was going to hell. It seemed that everything I did was a sin; that nothing I did would ever be good enough for God. I was always so guilty, always asking myself why I wasn't better. I hated myself, Carter. I truly, truly did," she took a sharp breath before going on to tell him, "Once I turned eighteen I realised that religion was a joke. I mean, I was dedicating so much time to someone who made me feel like shit – someone who probably didn't even exist. My Mum always told me to dump boys who didn't treat me right, so why should God be any different?" Carter opened his mouth but Claire cut him off, giving him a pointed look. "And _don't_ say because God is genderless."

"I was going to say: the Harvest Goddess nurtures all aspects of the Earth, both living and otherwise," he corrected her.

Claire eyed him shrewdly. "Carter, are you trying to convert me?"

"Maybe," Carter said at once, "Would that be such a terrible thing?"

"I wouldn't say _terrible_ but certainly not ideal." A knowing smile flashed across Claire's face. "Maybe I'd be more open to a new religion if I was drunk."

"Subtlety isn't your forte, is it?" he asked wryly.

She shook her head. "Being subtle is overrated."

Carter chuckled as stepped down from the altar. "Here you go then." He handed her the bottle and a glass. Claire seemed to visibly unwind, shoulders drooping and jaw slackening.

"Thanks." She unscrewed the cap, poured until the glass was a quarter full and then took a sip. "Mm, alcohol. The solution to all life's problems," she lamented. "Maybe I should start a religion on it and try convert you."

Carter strode back to the altar and said, "I believe it already has a name - _alcoholism_. But, none the less, I would like to see you try."

Claire shook her head. "Nah, I know a lost cause when I see one." She took a sip. "You know what's strange? I've been here so many times but I still don't know what's behind those doors…" her voice fell away, paving the way for Carter to fill her in.

"The one on your left is the confessional booth," He informed her. Claire stared at it intently.

"Ah, so that's where everyone comes to air their dirty laundry."

Carter's voice tightened. "I prefer the term penance."

"Same, same," she said with a shrug, "So, you must hear all sorts of gossip then?"

"A person's repentance is never considered gossip," then, guessing what Claire would say next, Carter added: "_And_ it's strictly confidential."

"C'mon Carter, surely you can indulge me in some of the sordid details and scandals of Mineral Town?" Claire begged, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

Carter shook his head firmly. "I couldn't even tell Harris if I wanted to."

"Good thing I'm not Harris," Claire sang pedantically. Unamused, Carter rose his eyebrows and she sighed. "Honestly though, what's the worst thing someone has done? Forgotten to return a library book?"

With his thumb and his forefinger, Carter made a zipping motion over his lips. "I'm not saying anything."

"Spoilsport," Claire said, deflating just a little. She pointed to the other door as she asked, "And that one?"

"Oh, that one leads to nowhere important. Don't worry about it." Claire looked disappointed. Disappointed, and dangerously curious. She eyed the door longingly, like she was Alice and the door was a rabbit hole.

"How mysterious." Claire observed eventually, tugging at a strand of hair. Her eyes were a radiant blue, both wide and sparkling as they shifted back onto him. "Now I'm definitely worried. For all I know you could be hiding dead bodies in that room." Gloved, dainty fingers twirled a loose lock of hair round and round. "I think it would be only right to show me what's inside, just to clear up any doubts I have about your character."

Carter let out a long, slow breath. "I hope you don't make a habit of visiting men you believe to be untrustworthy."

She winked. "Only when the weather permits."

Carter regarded the pleading pout of her lips indifferently. "The door will be remaining locked," he told her.

"Ugh, you're killing me Carter," Claire whined, throwing her head back and delivering her words to the ceiling. "First your priestly code of secrecy and now _this."_

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Oh dear, and killing is such an awful sin."

Claire straightened, her expression pleased. "Was that a joke?"

"They've been known to happen occasionally," Carter informed her dryly.

"Wow, maybe the Harvest Goddess _can_ perform miracles."

"I'm glad my humour was a religious experience for you."

Claire grinned up at Carter before her gaze slid to the window. She took a sip of wine and the red liquid stained the carnation-pink of her lips like a smudge of water-colour paint. All of Carter's attention was on her, and he looked at her the way Narcissus had once watched his reflection: deeply, endlessly. She was paler in the dim lighting of the room, looking almost like an angel with that golden halo of hair. _Angels fall_, Carter reminded himself. Claire did not look at him, she did not even seem to sense the intensity of his gaping eyes. At least, that was what Carter had thought until she turned her face away from his and murmured: "Don't watch me like that."

Carter tensed, not having realised she had been aware of his actions – or that it had upset her so. He took a breath, one he didn't need. "I'm sorry. Was I bothering you?"

Seconds passed and then she turned to face him. Her eyes had always been the light blue of a sky slipping into evening, but tonight, with the way the candlelight was reflected in them, it appeared as if the sun itself was setting behind her stare. "Bothering me?" She laughed humourlessly and Carter wondered how someone so beautiful could make such a terrible sound. "Of course not. Forgive me Pastor, wine makes me pensive. I should have warned you."

"I don't think it's just the wine," Carter observed. There was a definite sadness in the curve of Claire's lips, and the lines of her face were dark and furrowed. She was silent, her expression still and unmoving. "Claire, are you alright?" He stepped towards her, concerned about the sudden shift in her mood – had they really been joking just moments earlier? "Claire, _Claire. _Say something," he pleaded quietly, sitting down next to her. "_Please." _

Claire sighed and looked at him; the light had gone from her eyes. Long lashes veiled them as she said, "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and then another. It glistened gold in the light of the room and drew an iridescent line from her eyelid to her lips. She swallowed loudly and he could see the lines of throat move. Carter reached out to touch her shoulder, so he could comfort her; Claire flinched. "You're crying - goddess _you're crying_," He exhaled loudly. "It's a little hard not to be worried about that."

Claire shook her head and whispered shakily: "I'm not crying. It's this stupid incense, I'm allergic. It makes my eyes water."

"_Claire_ –"

"Carter _stop!_" Claire stood up so violently that the air seemed to tremble in response. The space she left behind seemed colder to Carter. Empty. "I'm not some little girl you can work your priest mumbo-jumbo on." Alarmed, Carter froze. "A story about alarm clocks and dead mothers is _not _going to help me. So please, just drop it."

Carter sighed in frustration. "I'm not asking as a priest – I'm asking as a friend."

Claire flared, her next words heated: "You don't want to know. As a friend, trust me on that."

"I'll take my chances."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Claire said darkly, "Karen showed me this picture of Popuri – it was stupid, just a picture of her and Kai in Hawaii. But they just looked so happy, so_ carefree_ and I –"

"You got jealous," Carter finished. He had heard a myriad of stories like Claire's in his confessional booth and the mix of bitterness and longing in her tone was easily recognizable.

"Yes. No. _Maybe." _Claire shook her head. "It doesn't matter anyway. I shouldn't even be saying this sort of stuff – especially _here_. If there was one thing I learnt as a kid, it was that envy is a one way ticket to hell."

"A bit of envy is fine. It's merely human nature to covet what one does not have." _I covet you, Claire, _Carter added silently, _does that mean I am damned? _Out loud, he asked: "Why are you so jealous?"

"'A bit of envy is fine'? Don't give me that bull, it's _only_ one of the seven deadly sins," Claire said bitterly, her voice so low it was almost a hiss. Carter was shocked; Claire never spoke to him like this.

He stood up so he could be closer to her. "Don't deflect."

"Don't ask questions that you don't want the answer to," Claire countered swiftly.

Carter was behind her now, close enough to wrap his arms around her and hold her. If he had been anyone else – anyone but a priest – he would have. "I think you should allow me to be the judge of that." A pause, a beat of silence. "Just tell me, Claire. I only want to help you."

Claire dragged her hands across her face. "Good god – why do you think I was jealous? Because they're in love, because there's nothing stopping them from holding hands in public or getting married, or…_" _She trailed off and took a deep breath. "Because we can't."

Carter was stricken for a moment, the colour draining from his face like a fire dying. "You think I want to hold your hand?" He asked, voice low and coarse. "You think I would say yes if you proposed to me?"

Claire turned around. "You're a terrible liar. I know you would." She looked more vulnerable than Carter had ever seen her – her eyes, too, were vulnerable, her heart beating inside of them. The way Claire was looking at him, he would not have believed anyone could, or would, look at a priest like that. He tried to ignore the slight swoop in his stomach. Softer, and more nervously, she asked: "Wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would," Carter snapped. He dragged a hand through his hair. "How could I not?"

Claire's eyes flashed. "You say that like it's the worst thing imaginable, like I'm some succubus from one of your stories. You know, the ones that 'steal the virtues and souls of men'".

"Don't you see, that's the problem - I'd let you have me. I'd _wan_t you to," he paused to take a strangled breath, "I want you, Claire. I _covet_ you." They were dangerous words, Carter knew that. He wondered if it were possible to take them back, if he could bury them back into the crevices of his heart from where they had spilled. "But I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't or wouldn't?" Claire asked him boldly, jaw set and gaze steady.

She was delicate, enticing, practically a Goddess in her own right, and yet - "Wouldn't," Carter said sharply.

Claire's eyes flickered between his lips and chin, eyelashes golden rain as they darted back and forth. "I don't believe you." She lent in, so close to the point where it was intoxicating for Carter. Now that he was so close to her – so close that he could see the glint of aquamarine specks in her eyes, the slight scatter of freckles on her nose, the curve of her mouth – he couldn't help but wonder how he had survived so long, survived only staring at her from a distance. Whatever tiny amount of space separating them vanished and Claire brushed her lips against his. Her blood must have been made of lightning, he thought, because her kiss seemed to electrify him, paralyse him. She kissed his mouth, his jawbone, his cheek, before whispering into his ear: "Tell me to stop, Carter. Make me believe you."

One of Carter's favourite stories was about _Tantalus, _a Greek king who dwelled in the deepest portion of the underworld. As an eternal punishment for stealing ambrosia and nectar from Olympus, the Gods commanded him to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree. The tree's branches hung low and yet they eluded his grasp, the water swirled at his feet but always receded before he could take a sip. With Claire's lips on his, Carter was no longer _Tantalus_, desperately longing for what would always be out of reach. Rather, he was Eve, eating the apple from the Garden of Eden and relishing in the taste of what was forbidden. This explained his answer: "I can't tell you that."

Carter surged into her, gripping her back and pressing her against him; Claire gasped into his lips. He could feel every ounce of self-control he had exerted over the last season spilling out of him and into his kisses. Frantically, furiously, his mouth moved against hers. He pushed her back, back towards the confessional room – _forgive me, Goddess, _he begged silently – and opened the door. Her blue eyes looked luminous, peeking out in slivers from beneath her eyelids. He marvelled at them, the sight making his heart stutter.

He steered her shoulders into the room and kicked the door shut; the sound of its slam echoed in the church (Claire chose not to mention the irony of him sinning in such a holy space and for that he was grateful). Only a fraction of light illuminated them, a dull orange making its way through the crack in the door and onto their tangled figures. His lips found hers again, as desperately as a smoking addict reached for a cigarette, and she responded by tugging at his collar and removing its top button. Their bodies slammed together in the tiny room, a collision of teeth and tongue; pain and pleasure in equal parts. They stayed in there for hours, until all the candles in the church had burned out and the sun rose over the town.

* * *

><p>"Hello there, sleepyhead."<p>

Carter froze in the doorway of the confessional booth. The morning light was kind to Claire. Kinder than candlelight, somehow. Blonde hair curled against her flushed cheeks. Her eyelashes were perilously long and they framed a stare that should have only belonged to Aphrodite; her eyes flared innocently, compellingly, as they made a play for him. Carter was sure it was the very same stare that had coaxed Ares from his wife's side and hypnotised Adonis, a mere mortal, into dallying with a deity.

_I didn't stand a chance, _Carter told himself. It didn't make him feel better, especially because of what he was about to do. Again, Carter thought of Lucifer, of all the fallen angels. He thought of the fires of hell, and of the smile of the devil. He had known that this would happen should he kiss Claire – the guilt, the agony, existing inside of him for eternity– but he had never thought of the moments after, of how he would have to break a girl's heart.

"Claire, I wasn't expecting you to still be here," Carter said stoically. He had woken up alone in the confessional booth and had assumed Claire had left in the early hours of the morning.

"You think I'm _that _girl? Please, I always stay for the awkward morning-after small talk," she chimed, grinning ferociously at him. Her pale pink lips were swollen, bruised from last night's mistake. "Now c'mon, I'm starving. Come back to my farm and I'll cook you breakfast."

He shook his head and swallowed. "Claire, we can't."

"Don't worry about Manna seeing us and gossiping. I know some paths that avoid the winery completely," Claire said, reassuring him. She had started to walk towards him. "I call them 'stealth routes'," She paused and her expression turned wicked, a smirk replacing her smile. "Actually, that sort of applies to last night too."

Carter looked at her abruptly, horrified. "_Claire_ –"

She laughed and shook her head. She was close to him now, barely a centimetre away. "Don't worry, I won't say that in public."

Carter took a small step back. "_Claire, _listen to me."

Her face fell. "Don't say it," she murmured, tremors running through her words.

His heart tightened. "Last night was a mistake. It's not going to happen again – it _can't _happen again."

Claire rose her eyebrows suggestively and wrapped her arms around his neck. She smelt of incense and stale perfume. "Oh, really?"

He drew back roughly, as if her touch physically burned him. "Yes, really," he said, "I have iron self-control Claire, nothing else is going to happen between us," Carter asserted.

"Iron self-control wasn't exactly the impression I got last night…" Claire trailed off, her thumb tracing a telling red mark on her neck.

Carter flushed furiously and he struggled to maintain his resolve. "Claire, please."

"You keep saying my name," she told him softly.

Claire's words hadn't been so much a question as an observation but Carter felt the need to defend himself. "I know, I'm sorry." He paused. "It's just I won't get to say it again - not to you, not in the way I want to."

"Stop it, Carter," she demanded and her hands balled at her sides, white knuckles protruding. "It doesn't have to be like this."

All of the warmth from last night had drained out of Carter. "Yes. Yes, it does. I'm a priest, Claire. My duty is to the Harvest Goddess, not to you."

Claire frowned and her eyes darkened; they were no longer light blue, but instead a shade of the Arctic Ocean. Cool, icy, detached. "So, that's it then?" her voice was dead.

Carter was breathing very hard. "I'm sorry," his words threatened to shake; somehow he kept them steady.

Without another word Claire spun on her heel and walked away from him, towards the gap between the pews from which she had wandered through yesterday. The image of a ship appeared in Carter's mind. The ships anchor had fallen away in the middle of the night, ocean waves having softened it until it disappeared. The sailor was forsaken, lost in a great expanse of sea in which he had no idea how to navigate, cold and alone.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reading! For anyone confused about Claire's "alarm clocks and dead mothers" line: if memory serves, once you befriend Carter in FoMT/MFoMT he tells you this story about how this little girls mother dies and the father, not wanting to upset his child, tells the kid that she's just asleep. The kid then sets an alarm clock to try and wake his parent up (which obviously doesn't work).

Halidom, I really hope you liked this.


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